


The Pines Family of Glass Shard Beach NJ (as seen from the perspective of their mother)

by aksarah



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 1970's, Dysfunctional Family, New Jersey, Prison, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aksarah/pseuds/aksarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look behind the scenes as Stanley is thrown out of the house from his mother's perspective. An idea of what it's like to lose a son, then another son, and another son while living in thrall of an abusive husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1971

One hour. She got one lousy hour of sleep, the first in the last twenty, before the baby started crying again. “I am too old for this crap and too young for it at the same damn time,” Maud groaned, rolled over and noticed that she had crawled into bed without taking her jewelry or makeup off. Just as she was finally about to get her last two kids out of the house, she became a Grandma. Maud heaved a heavy sigh, put on her robe and trudged to the basinet. “Good thing I love you, you little shit.” She picked the screaming infant up and was about to check his diaper when she realized he’d been awakened by a commotion coming from the livingroom. Maud rubbed her eyes, and went to see what was going on.

The sight she was greeted with was not one that surprised her, but nevertheless upsetting. Filbrick had a fist full of Stanley’s shirt and was growling at him. “You did what, you knuckle head?”

“Stanley?” she asked warily. “What’s goin’ on in here?” Maud knew better than to get involved, especially if Filbrick had already engaged him physically.

Stanley cowered and held his hands up instinctively. “Wait, no I can explain, it was a mistake!”

Maud cringed. “Whaddaya done to upset your father this time?” she moaned.

“I was just…”

“I heard ya. Horsin’ around. With Stanford’s future!” Filbrick shouted and boxed his ear.

Stanley blocked, but the hit still rang his bell a bit. He stumbled, a foot caught in the couch, and fell, catching the corner of the coffee table as he went down and knocking a teacup and saucer and a small transistor radio onto the shag carpet.

“Pack it up, you good for nothin’ sack a crap. I’ve had enough!”

“But…!”

“ENOUGH!” Filbrick screamed. “You got _five minutes_.”

Stanley’s twin brother Stanford stood silhouetted by the flickering glow of the television. His expression was one of mute shock and he stood frozen in place. Maud desperately tried to make eye contact with him—tried to will him into action, into saying something. When she realized he wasn’t going to come to his brother’s defense, her heart sank. “Fil, I’m sure it ain’t as bad as all that…” she said softly, clutched the baby to her and thanked God that he’d stopped crying. She wasn’t surprised that Filbrick ignored her, but was grateful that he did.

Stanley glanced at Stanford, then at his mother, but Filbrick was hot and lunged at him again, so rather than protest, he ran to his room.

Stanford turned and went to the window that overlooked the street and folded his arms around himself. Filbrick sat down on the couch and watched the news. Maud trembled as she walked slowly toward the twins’ room. It was half-lit from the hall light and she stood in the doorway and watched her special son scramble to do what his father told him to. Into a small duffle bag he used when he went to the gym to box he threw socks and underwear, a few shirts, jeans, a bottle of cologne, a handful of paper bills he kept in a jar, and lastly, his boxing trunks and gloves.

He looked up when he heard her try to stifle a sob. “Ma,” he said, surprised. “Whaddaya doin’?”

“Just watchin’ ya,” she said. “Ya woke up the baby.”

“Sorry, Ma.” he said, zipped up the bag and squeezed his eyes shut. “I won’t do it again.”

They both looked up as they heard Filbrick and Stanford talking, their voices bassy and angry from the living room: Filbrick’s offensive jabbing, accusatory tone and Stanford’s whinging reply.

“You better get out there an’ apologize for whatever you done this time, Stanley.”

“I _did_ , Ma! He ain’t listening to me no more.” Stanley stood and picked up the bag.

“Do it _again_. Make it good! None a this ‘it was a mistake’ crap or he won’t let it go.”

“I know that, Ma. I…”

“FIVE MINUTES!” Filbrick shouted. They both jumped. The baby started to cry again, so Maud hung back as Stanley pushed past her and hurried to his father.

“Shhhhhh,” Maud whispered at her grandson. “Come on, Alexander, shush now. He’s on a tear, your Grampa is. He never did like screamin’ babies, an’ now ain’t a good time to be screamin’. But he’ll get over it. He always does. When he’s done. And if ya keep a low profile like Stanford and your daddy done, you don’t even get hit.” Maud bounced him lightly and he quieted. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she patted them dry with the sleeve of her bathrobe. “An’ if ya cry, just say it’s make up in your eye. Oh, that ain’t gonna work for you, though, huh?” The sound of feet pounding down the stairs roused her and Maud ventured into the livingroom. Stanford kept his post at the window, looking down at the street. Filbrick’s voice, shouting once more, filtered up from the stairwell. She looked down from the top of the landing and saw her husband push her free-spirited son to the concrete sidewalk. Maud winced and hugged the baby closer to her.

“You ignoramus! Your brother was gonna be our ticket outta this dump! All you ever do is lie and cheat and ride on your brother’s coattails. Well this time you cost our family potential _millions_! And until you make us a fortune, you’re not welcome in this household!” He threw Stanley’s duffle bag at him.

“What?!” Stanley cried, finally realizing what Maud had feared. This time, Filbrick couldn't be swayed or calmed. This time, he was going all the way with his threat. This time was the last time. Stanley looked to the second floor window and pleaded with his twin. “Stanford! Tell him he’s bein’ crazy!”

Every other time his father had threatened to kick him out, had raised his hand (or foot) to him, had verbally abused him, Stanford had been there to talk him down. Stanford, who worked so hard to assuage his father’s temper and save his twin from his abuse now stood silent. From where she stood, Maud glanced to her right and watched Stanford hang his head and pull the blinds shut. “Stanford?” Stanley asked plaintively. “Don’t leave me hangin’…High six?”

Filbrick slammed the door, turned and stomped up the stairs and Maud scrambled to get out of his way. “Fil,” she started. “You don’t really mean…”

“Can it, Maud. He’s eighteen. That loser ain’t my burden no more.”

She pressed her back to the wall and did her best to stay on her feet.

“And shut that kid up!” he barked and headed for the liquor cabinet to make himself a scotch and soda. From the street, the sound of Stanley’s Cadillac peeling out and scattering some metal trash cans echoed like a scream.

“Sure, Fil,” Maud said quietly. Once more, she tried to meet her son Stanford’s eye, but he was looking down intently at the brochure from that fancy school he would now never attend. “Stanford?” she whispered, as Filbrick was only just out of earshot. When he raised his head, the look of devastation on his face made her bite the inside of her bottom lip to keep from gasping. “Good night,” she practically mouthed while shushing her grandson, cooing and bouncing him lightly as she walked back to the room she’d been sleeping in.

 

.x.

Three days after Stanley left, Maud was starting to feel the effects of extreme sleep-deprivation when a long-awaited call came in. Filbrick answered, grunted back in agreement and hung up without saying good-bye. “Stanford,” he barked at his son who was eating breakfast at the table and trying not to pay attention to his nephew’s mewling as Maud tried to give him his bottle. “Go pick Linda up.”

Maud lifted her face and beamed at her husband. “She’s clear for launch?” she shouted and baby Alexander made to start crying so she stuffed the bottle in his mouth. “Hot damn! You hear that, Peanut, your mama’s comin’ home!”

Linda, Maud’s eldest son Sherman Pines’ young wife, was a slight girl of twenty. Passingly pretty with auburn hair and freckles, she looked too young to be married. She was nearly killed in childbirth and after two weeks in the hospital, she was pale and thin and unsteady on her feet, but she did her best to hurry up the stairs, eager to hold her son in her arms again. Maud gave her a hug and a kiss in greeting and promptly went to bed.

Linda and Sherman were married the night before he left for boot camp. Filbrick was not impressed when his son told them that they had eloped and the turned around asked them to take care of her until he got back. Her parents were divorced, her mother moved to Boca and her father was a bookie and a lout, he said. She needed good people to watch out for her. She was a good girl, he said. She had a baby boy only six months later.

After a good night’s sleep, Maud woke in her own bed the following day almost right. The warm, Indian summer of a few days ago was gone and a cool, relaxing breeze blew through the apartment. Filbrick had already gone downstairs to open the shop and Linda and the baby were sleeping in their room. It was a perfect, lazy Saturday. Stanford trudged out of his room and made for the fridge without so much as a how-do-you-do and she opened her mouth to chastise him then closed it tightly. It was so quiet without Stanley. She teased her nerdy son about his bed-head and joked around as if everything was fine.

Around noon she made Filbrick his favorite Dutch loaf on white with yellow mustard and took it down to him at the shop. All the pleasantries she’d prepared were washed away in an instant when he handed her the mail. “Got mail from ‘Nam,” he said, bruskly. There were two letters, one to Linda Pines and one to Maud and Filbrick Pines--the latter had already been opened. Maud snatched them and rushed upstairs. She gave Linda hers and whipped hers open with trembling hands.

_Dear Ma and Pop,_

_Coming home pretty soon, Ma. Going to quit flying soon, too much for me now. I have flown 1500 hours now, and in those hours I could tell you a lifetime story. I have been put in for a medal again, but this time I have seen far beyond of what ever you will see. That is why I'm going to quit flying. I dream of Linda’s hand touching mine telling me to come home; but I wake up, and it's some sergeant telling me I have to fly. Today I am 25, far away but coming home older._

_Love,_

_Sherman*_

Maud’s heart soared and she went immediately to the secretary and wrote a reply. As she sat down to write a chill ran down her spine so hard it knocked the pen out of her hand. Maud jumped and stared at it as it spun a little before slowing to a stop. “No,” she whispered. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing.”

_Dear Shermy,_

_Things are going great at the old homestead. Linda, as you will know by her letter I’m sure, is very well and my grandson is an absolute angel. I had the funniest caller the other day Shermy he said he wanted to know the lotto results, so I told him they’d be 1-2-3-4-5 and he bought it! When they say there’s a sucker born every minute they are not lying. Stanford won a big prize at the school science fair the other day. $50 cash prize! Hot damn! He’s applying for school now and we just know he’ll get a full ride somewhere he’s so smart. Not like us huh? Haha. Where does he get it from? Stanley is off on his own now, so it’s a little quiet around here. Finally. Ha. Miss you and love you and can’t wait to see your face again._

_Love, Your Ma_

Less than twenty four hours later, a notification officer entered Pines Pawns and broke the news to the man of the house. Filbrick waited until that evening at dinner to tell his wife, remaining son, and daughter-in-law that his eldest son Sherman Pines’ assault helicopter company came under fire from Charlie and he was killed in action outside of Da Nang the day after writing his last letter home. Linda screamed and fainted, Stanford sat ashen and stared at the far wall as if catatonic, and Maud lowered her eyes, excused herself, went to her room, and stayed there for three days.

  



	2. Chapter 2

1972

The following spring, baby Alexander had yet to take his first steps, Linda’s health was doing very well, Stanford had been accepted with a full-ride scholarship to Backuspmore, and Maude felt that things were going pretty well, considering.

One day while he was at school, she entered Stanford’s room for the first time in probably years to retrieve the laundry basket and stopped dead in the center of the room. The lower bunk had never been made. Pinups of prize-fighters still adorned half of the walls. One dresser stood askew, drawers open, clothes hanging out. Maud covered her mouth with her hand but it was too late, a sob had escaped, and she had to remain in the room until she’d collected herself before she felt that she could emerge.

A few days later, she sat in her window seat as she did most evenings and took calls. There was a woman wondering about a disappeared boyfriend, a man calling for the winning horse in the next derby, the usual. She finished another call, fixed herself a vodka collins, and returned to her seat just as another came in.

“Ma, it’s me don’t hang up,” he said quickly.

“I’m here,” she said calmly. “Whatcha wanna know, sweetheart?”

“It’s _me_ , Ma.”’

“I _know_ that! You did call a _psychic_ , silly.”

“Oh. Right. Dad’s in the room, huh?”

She glanced over and Filbrick had let the corner of his newspaper droop and cocked his eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes and twirled her finger around her ear to throw him off. “Oh yes, that’s right!” she drawled.

“I gotta leave the area soon and I wanna see ya. Is that ok?”

“Hm,” she said, rubbing her temples for effect. “I see that you want to meet with someone...”

“Yeah, Ma. _You_.”

She made a face. “Don’t rush a psychic, pally. You will meet this person in the park, on Sunday. Noonish. You should go and sit on a bench and wait and this person will arrive.”

His voice hesitated. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. _I can see the future!_ That’ll be $17.95.”

“What? Ma?!”

She grinned from ear to ear. “No, no, thank _you_ , Sir!” she said and hung up.

 

Sunday was a perfect time to meet him as she always went to church alone (being the only practicing Catholic in the family) and confession usually took a good chunk of time out of her day. Skipping it after mass and vowing to do double the Hail Marys the following week, she hurried to the park not far from her home. This Sunday Filbrick was at the shop, Stanford was studying away as always and wouldn’t miss her, and Linda had taken the baby to see her father who was currently in the hospital healing up from an acute case of “lead poisoning”.

She spied him first, snuck up on him and flopped down next to him, causing him to shout. Maud laughed and hugged her wayward son tightly. “Oh, Stanley I missed you so much!” she cooed and grabbed his face in her hands. “Look at you! Looks like you ain’t missin’ no meals, anyhow!”

“Ma!” he wriggled out of her grip. “I been boxin’! It’s muscle!”

She cocked her head to one side. “On your face? Seriously, though, you look healthy. You must be doin’ ok,” she stated, almost asking for confirmation, but not quite.

Stanley gave her a small smile and hung his head. When he lifted it back up he had a huge grin on his lips. “Things are really moving for me, Ma. I’m headed up and outta this dump. Gonna move to P-A tomorrow. Wanted ta see ya before I headed out.”

“Stanley, that’s great!”

“Yep! I’m a travelling salesman!” he boasted, puffing out his chest. “Got a great set of products to shill and I’m rarin’ ta go!”

Maud pursed her lips. He was obviously trying so hard to please his father, still. “Oh, my special little guy,” she said, and put her arm around his shoulder. “I know you’ll do just fine!”

Stanley rubbed his hands together between his knees. “Thanks, Ma. I won’t let you down.” They sat in silence for a while and listened to the robins chirping in the budding trees around them. “How’s everyone doin’?”

“Good. Stanford got into a great college and we ain’t gotta pay a dime for it—he’s so friggin’ smart, but you know that. Linda’s off to visit her dad today to show off the baby and…”

Stanley looked away as he saw the facade start to crack. “I know about Shermy, Ma. I seen it in the paper.”

Maud gasped. She nodded her head and a few tears escaped down her cheeks. “Alexander is getting so big!” she said after a long pause. “And Linda’s great. We’re actually pretty good pals. And your dad is… working. As usual.”

“Yeah.”

They sat together for a few more moments, then Stanley stood and put his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Well, I gotta get a move on. Stayed too long already. Thanks for seein’ me, Ma.”

She stood and her arms ached to reach out and enfold him again, to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be alright, but she knew she had no right to lie to him like that. “Don’t be a stranger. Let me know where you are. Call me,” she demanded.

“Sure, Ma,” he said, turned his back and waved as he walked away. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she lied.

“Don’t tell Stanford you saw me.”

 

.x.

In the fall Filbrick and Maud drove Stanford to the bus station early in the morning. The shop opened at ten, after all. They’d had to schedule Sherman’s funeral last year for seven so that Filbrick could make it back in time.

The proud parents wished their son well. Filbrick shook Stanford’s hand as an attendant tossed his three suitcases (on loan from the shop) into the baggage compartment. Maud gave him a hug, which he reluctantly accepted. She really did admire her son, not only for his superior intelligence that she was sure would take him far, but for his stoicism and focus on his studies, which she thought was a heck of a good way to deal with the lot he’d been dealt. She often wished she had a hobby or something she could focus on, but Filbrick had always discouraged anything she started, especially if the purchasing of supplies was involved. Maud released Stanford from the hug, then grabbed his right hand and shook it. Surprise lit up his face for a moment, but the intense look his mother gave him and the firmness of the handshake convinced him to keep it under wraps. “Keep in touch,” she said. She felt the rolled-up piece of paper with Stanley’s Pennsylvania contact information on it transfer successfully into his palm as she released him. Stanford nodded and ascended the steps into the Greyhound that would take Maud’s last son far from home, rarely to return.

 

.x.

1977

The telephone psychic business was still pretty lucrative for Maud even after all these years. The addition of a 900-number the year before had been a big help. Suckers were so much easier to fleece if they thought the racket was legit. Once, she had an ad on the local TV station that ran at an ungodly hour for a few days, but since she turned off the ringer at night it didn’t help much and Filbrick had it cancelled. She settled into her window seat, flipped the switch on the side of the wall-mount and settled down to “work”. At three or so, the house line rang. If it was important and she’d neglected to take a message she’d hear about it, so she reluctantly flipped the psychic line’s ringer back off, flopped down on the couch and answered the phone.

“Ma, you alone?”

“Stanley! You’re brave callin’ the home phone!” she crowed. “Yeah, I am. Where are you?”

“Got a pencil?”

“Yeah,” she said, scrambling for the pad and pen she kept in the drawer of the end table to her left.

“1127 Collins St, Joliet, IL 60432,” he said quietly. “I ain’t got long, but I wanted to talk to ya.”

“Aw, how sweet,” she said sarcastically. “Ya don’t call me for a year and you got what? Five minutes?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh… I got this crazy new job and they got me doing a lot of time... uh, I mean, work.”

Maud looked down at the address she’d written and any warm feelings she had about her son remembering to keep in touch with her were washed away by an icy shiver. Joliet. Doing time. Five minutes to talk. There were a lot of voices echoing in the background.

“You there for long?” she dared to ask.

“I’ll be here for a year or two, maybe, then on to bigger and better things--you know me!” he laughed. “How you doin’?”

“Great!” she said, holding her head in her free hand. “Fil, Linda, Alexander, they’re all great. Healthy, thank God. And Stanford too, I hear. He moved again. Oregon. Want I should mail you his address and phone number?”

“Sure, Ma.”

In the background a man distinctly said “Alright, Pines. Time’s up.”

“Ma, I gotta go. I love you.”

“Love you too!” she blurted out. “Be good. Be careful. Don’t… work too hard.”

“I won’t. Bye, Ma.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just figured out that I can code images in so have added some art I did for this story to each chapter. Thanks for reading! - aks

1978

Alexander was a handful. Even with his mother and grandparents around to watch him, he was rambunctious, free-spirited, and hard to keep out of trouble. He inherited his grandmother’s gift for creative embellishment and displayed prowess in the fine art of lying almost as soon as he could talk. It was also, conversely, almost impossible to successfully lie to him. He could smell a lie like a fart in a car and would call you on it if he felt particularly smarmy right at that moment.

Maud was glad to find that although Alexander was yet young enough to perceive his grandfather’s aggression as only strictness, time seemed to have mellowed Filbrick Pines, considerably. Perhaps, she thought, losing one son to an untimely death, another to anger, and a third perhaps thanks to losing the first two, had a sobering effect on him. He remained a hard man who never once showed a sign of weakness or emotion other than anger, but in the last decade she could count the times he’d treated her poorly on her hand.

When Alexander was seven years old, his grandfather got into a heated argument with a patron of Pines Pawns. The middle-aged customer had pawned a watch the week before. It had been sold, but he disagreed with Filbrick regarding compensation. Maud heard the voices raising, rolled her eyes, got up and turned the TV volume louder. “Sheesh, calm yourself Fil, or you’ll blow a gasket.”

Alexander looked up from the floor where he was coloring and laughed. “Which gasket Gramma?”

Maud put her hand her her chin and thought about it for a moment. “The one up here,” she pointed to her forehead. “The one that throbs when you tick him off!”

They both laughed. Linda stuck her head around the kitchen door. “Everything alright?” she asked in a worried tone.

“Grampa’s blowin’ a gasket!” Alexander chimed and laughed so hard he rolled around on the shag rug in front of the TV.

Maud waved at her daughter-in-law in a dismissive way and smiled on her grandson. So much like her long-lost Stanley, only smart as a whip like Stanford. It had been a few months since last Stanley had called in and even longer for Stanford. They both seemed even further from home than ever before. Her wistful smile fell as her shoulders and back spasmed and she turned away in order to hide her expression from Alexander. “What now?” she whispered inaudibly under the loud TV and laughing child. “What friggin’ now?”

Alexander’s laughter stopped abruptly as he rolled to the right and saw a man standing at the top of the landing. He was a stranger with a passive posture--hat held in his hands---and his pockmarked face was as white as a sheet. “You got a phone? Guy downstairs hit the deck!”

Maud left Alexander with Linda and rushed downstairs.

 

When she returned several hours later Maud stopped before the door to the apartment at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath. It didn’t matter anymore. The wall she had built up against his anger, his impatience, his inability to tolerate anything other than what he wanted, was no longer needed. Trying to keep from being swatted at or disparaged for saying something he deemed stupid or useless. Playing the sexy housewife, always on, always ready. Everything she’d been since age eighteen was now rendered null and void. What was she now? Mrs. Maud Hazel Kelley Pines. Catholic. Over fifty. Widow.

But she was also a grandmother and mother-in-law and the last two people who counted on her were behind that door, waiting for her. There was only one thing she wanted from them in return, and with the confidence that she would get it, she opened the door.

They were sitting on the couch in the dark watching John Chancellor give the nightly news on channel four. Linda rushed to the set and turned the volume down; the light from the shifting images on the TV flickered and flashed across their faces. “Is he going to be alright?” Linda asked, taking a step back, putting one hand on the arm of the couch, preparing to faint.

“Nope,” Maud asserted. Her hair, usually carefully done up, was limp, and her makeup ruined by obvious tears. “He blew a gasket, alright.”

Alexander stood suddenly and clenched his fists. “That’s not funny,” he barked.

“I know, kiddo.”

“Then why’d you say it?!”

Maud trembled. “‘Cause it’s true.” She fell to her knees and wept openly for the first time in what must have been a decade, and even then she had been certain she was alone. The force of Linda and Alexander’s embrace nearly knocked her over. She hugged them back and clung to them tightly for a long while.

 

January, 1982

One afternoon, late, Maud was climbing the stairs to the apartment when a chill ran down her spine so violently she stopped dead mid-step and nearly dropped the bag of groceries she’d been carrying. With her free hand, she clung to the hand-rail and steadied herself. Alexander, carrying three bags, was right behind her when it happened. “You ok, Gramma?” the eleven-year-old asked.

“Yeah. Woo. That was a doozy!” She laughed nervously and finished her ascent. Alexander jogged into the kitchen ahead of her, deposited his bags and jogged back to help her.

“You get a ‘feeling’?” he asked.

“Sure did.” she said, sitting down slowly and carefully on the couch. “I gotta make a call, sweetheart. Go put the stuff away, would ya?”

Alexander nodded and reluctantly did as he was told as quietly as possible in order to eavesdrop. After his grandfather’s death, his grandmother had been more open with them about things she’d previously had to keep to herself. He knew from seeing it first-hand that when Maud’s ability was triggered, she shivered suddenly, and often the bigger the shiver, the more serious the problem. She told him once that she shivered the day his father died and the day his grandfather died.

Maud’s hands trembled as she pulled out her pad of paper, looked up a pair of numbers and dialed the first one. The call connected and rang. And rang. And rang. She let it go fifteen times before she hung up, her face ashen and hands still shaking. She tried the second number. “Hello? Please connect me with room 168, Stanley Pines. He did? Any forwarding number or address? This is his mother. No, really. Why would he have more than one? Nevermind. Thanks for nothin’ pal.” She slammed the receiver down and sighed heavily.

“You ok, Gramma?” Alexander asked, startling her.

She nodded, rubbed her arms and gave him a half-smile. “It’s ok. It’ll resolve itself.”

 

Maud called Stanford’s number in Oregon several times a day for a week straight. On about the seventh day (she lost track), she was alone in the apartment in the early evening when someone answered the phone.

“Sta… Stanford Pines!” the man on the other end said, sounding a little like her son, but not quite.

“Who is this? Where’s Stanford?!” she shouted.

“This _is_ Sta _…_ wait, Ma?”

“Stanley? What the hell are you doin’ callin’ yourself Stanford? Where is he? What’s happened? I’m a wreck over here! For a week I been callin’ and no answer! Is he dead? Oh god, Stanley, what’s happened?”

“Ma, Ma! Calm down! It’s.... he’s.... He’s not dead, I don’t think… I…”

“You don’t _think_?” she screamed. “Stanley Pines, if you love me, for once in your life you gotta be straight with me!” There was a pause and Maud’s blood pressure was so high she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was on her feet, clutching the desk phone in one hand and the handset to her ear with the other.

“Ok, Ma. You better sit down for this. I was gonna call you soon--I’m not totally ready yet--but I’ll tell ya anyway. You sittin’?”

She frowned and capitulated. “I’m sittin’. Spill.”

“You know Stanford was into all this crazy science stuff with physics and inter-di-mensional whoosits, right? Well, he made this sort of _hole_ that was supposed to go to another place. And… He asked me to come help him hide stuff about it because it scared him. He said he got in too deep. And, well, we had a fight. And the thing turned on and it sucked him in and then it ran outta juice and he’s _gone_. But I _don’t_ think he’s dead! He left some of his notes behind, so I’m gonna try to get it goin’ again and get him back. I ain’t leavin’ until I do. I figured I can run a tourist trap outta half the house. People came here the other day and paid me fifteen friggin’ bucks just to see a bunch a junk! It’s totally legit! So I can pay his mortgage and bills and crap and I can stay here and work on this stupid portal thing and try and get him back.” He paused. “You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“You think I’m lyin’?”  
“I ain’t sure.”

“I’m not,” he said gravely. “It’s the God’s honest truth, Ma.”  
“I know he’s gone. I felt it.”

“You did?” he asked with astonishment in his voice. “You really psychic?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. When? When’d ya feel it?”

“About a week ago, four-ish our time.”

There was a pause. She imagined him counting on his fingers. “That’s right.”

“So what happens now?”

“You’re not gonna like this, but I got a plan, and I wanted to tell you before you found out somehow else.”

Maud raised a brow and put the phone she’d been holding in her lap on the coffee table. “Go on.”

“I ain’t been truthful with you, Ma. I’m not a good person. I been in prison and I got run outta almost every state in the Union.”

“I know,” she said, sadly.

“You know? Seriously?”

“Of course. Psychic, remember?” she joked.

“Ha. Well, then I guess if one day you found out I was dead and you didn’t feel that shimmy you get, you wouldn’t believe it, right?”

“That is not even funny, Stanley.”

“It ain’t suppose’ ta be. I’m gonna kill off my identity and live as my brother in order to protect this house and all his secret science crap in the basement. So when or if you hear I’m dead, make sure you call me to see if it’s real before you panic.”

Maud was on her feet again. “Jesus Christ, Stanley that is ludicrous!”

“It’s what I gotta do! For the first time in my life I can actually try to make up for all the crap I done to this family! Stanley Pines ain’t never done a worthwhile thing in is life so if he’s gotta die to save Stanford, that’s ok with me! I’m sorry if you don’t like it, Ma, but I gotta do this! I gotta get him back!”

Her face glowed red and she stomped a foot down. “You want me to tell Linda and Alexander that you’re _dead_?”

He paused. “Yeah. You’re gonna have ta. The less people know about this, the safer it is. I seen his notes, Ma. This crap made him nutso. It’s intense!”

“What’s to say it won’t make _you_ nutso?”

“‘Cause I’m a fathead and he was a huge nerd, that’s why. I _got_ this. You gotta believe me.”

Maud sighed and sat back down again. “Stanley. Jesus.” She let her head fall onto the back of the couch and looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Several moments passed in which they listened to the sound of their breathing. Finally, she sighed. “Ok. Sure. _Stanford_.”

“Just call me Stan. It works.” She laughed a little and his voice became soft. “What’s so funny?”

Maud smiled and let the tears roll down the sides of her face into her hair. “Stan, I think maybe your dad would be impressed.”

 

.x. Epilogue .x.

Maud Pines would not live to find out if her son Stanford made it back from the other world alive, but she would get meet her grandson Alexander’s children--her great-grandchildren Dipper and Mabel. In 2007, the year before she died, she made it out to see them in California and to visit Stanley in Oregon for the first time. Stanley gave her a tour of the Mystery Shack and the basement labs and portal room. When she touched the metal triangle she felt a small psychic shock that left her warm inside. “He’s out there,” she said to her only remaining son. “You’ll bring him home, I feel it.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Sherman’s letter is based on a letter from Larry Jackson from September, 1969 written on the day before he was killed, slightly edited to fit the story. http://www.vietvet.org/mjlastle.htm


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